


Leave Me Stranded

by AmazingAbigail



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Friendship, short but it says what it needs to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazingAbigail/pseuds/AmazingAbigail
Summary: Sometimes Phil has bad days too





	Leave Me Stranded

Sometimes he has bad days. It’s not like what Dan describes – when he wakes up and knows the day will be bad. Sometimes it strikes him when he’s making coffee, or filming, or showering. It’s like as soon as the constant stream in his mind is momentarily paused, the feeling hits him hard.

This morning, it’s when he’s waiting for his toast to pop.

Maybe his first clue should have been that he wanted toast, not cereal, for breakfast; or maybe that he’s awake before nine in the morning, but his brain had been previously busy thinking about the video he has to edit so he can post it tonight.

Things seem to slip out of focus; like everything is shifted to the right and he’s still stuck in the middle.

The toast pops, and it doesn’t make him jump the way it usually does. Instead, he just stares for a moment, unable to think of anything else but how pointless it all seems.

He shakes his head, his quiff falling against his forehead. He pushes it back haphazardly. His eyes don’t move from the piece of bread in the toaster, surely growing cold the longer he looks at it, but he can’t find the strength to move forward, to grab it from the toaster, to eat it. He can’t even find the strength to think about doing any of those things.

The sunlight streaming into the kitchen would be a clear indication of time passing if Phil could focus on it, if he could focus on anything besides how wrong this all seems.

Without a second thought, without a _first_ thought, he turns on his heels and leaves the kitchen. He goes back to the bedroom – his bedroom, where the vibrant greens and blues make his eyes ache. The plants dotted around the room are in different degrees of being alive, from the blooming cactus on his dresser to the brown and crispy parlor palm in the corner and the handful in between, and he can’t help but feel particularly connected to the palm.

He lays down in his now cold bed and wraps his duvet around himself tightly. The sun is streaming in through the window and he almost hates it.

Sometime later, he hears padded feet pass his door and head for the stairs. Dan will take one look around the empty lounge and kitchen and come to check on him. He’ll understand, of course. He always understands.

Dan, with his therapist and professional diagnosis and Phil can taste the bitterness in his mouth as he thinks about it.

Phil hears the footsteps coming back and tries to swallow back the bitterness. It’s no one’s fault, it’s especially not Dan’s fault, and if he was feeling more like himself he’d probably feel guilty for those thoughts.

There’s a knock on his door, and he hears Dan’s breathy laugh on the other side of the wood. “You forgot your toast, you spoon!” he calls.

Phil doesn’t answer; he doesn’t know how to answer, so he buries his head in his pillow and hopes Dan will leave.

Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, the door opens and he hears Dan take a step inside. “Phil?” he asks as he enters.

Despite the aching in his chest telling him to pretend to be asleep, he peeks over at the door and sees Dan, still in his Game of Thrones pajamas, and his curls are wild. Their eyes lock, and even though it’s usually the other way around, something is exchanged silently between them and Dan knows.

He sets the plate on the dresser without a word and goes to the window. Phil closes his eyes again, and sighs in relief when Dan closes the blinds, causing the room to darken.

Dan sits on the bed beside Phil without a word. Phil hears him unlock his phone, but doesn’t have the strength to turn over and see what he’s doing.

So, instead, he closes his eyes and hopes when he wakes up, he’ll be himself again.


End file.
